


All Kids Go

by Drawkab



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drawkab/pseuds/Drawkab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy is forced to grow up faster than he had planned. Connor just wants his brother to be happy again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally started this back in 2012, but a lot of things got in the way of writing it. Please enjoy and comment if you'd like. I'm working at becoming a better writer (better description, flow, everything) so I appreciate feedback when it's given!

 

Rushed images replay in his head; he's trying, trying  _ so hard _ to forget them. The heated breathing, the forced touches…He wishes that they would just go  _ away _ . For days, the images are on constant replay. How many days, has it been though? Three, he thinks, but he can't be sure since his days have woven together. Has he slept at all? He doesn't think so…

 

He's sitting at his desk looking at his open math book, but not thinking of the problems. His eyes wonder around to look at the contents of the desk; comic books, old action figures and various things that you would find on a teenage boy's desk. They all look foreign to him, though, as if he's never seen them before. A sudden distaste for them builds in his gut, and he gets the urge to just fling his arms at them and knock them to the ground.

 

He pushes the anger down, though, and grabs a dusty Batman figure. He remembers the day that he got it—his tenth birthday and Connor had gotten the same one. Their Ma could only afford one thing for each of the boys, but he loved so much. Now, though, he looks at it with a slight hatred. He wants things to go back to that day when he got the toy, back to when things were simple and  _ good _ .

 

He's too busy staring at Batman's unmoving face to hear his brother push open his door, "Hey, Murph, have yeh finished the math homework?"

 

Murphy looks behind him at his brother, "No." He speaks it barely above a whisper and he notices how raspy his voice still is from…He pushes the thought out of his head, "Have yeh?"

 

Connor, noting how detached his brother is, walks over, ignoring the question he was asked, and peers over his shoulder, "Yeh haven't even started! And what are yeh doing with tha' Batman action figure? Playin' a game? Jeez, Murph, aren't yeh a little old fer tha'?"

 

He could hear Connor smile, but the anger Murphy had pushed back was finding its way to his mouth with each tantalizing question that his brother asked. He didn't even know what he was saying. He wasn't forced to give up his childhood--his  _ innocence _ \-- early. He wasn't…His brother is, "So stupid…Jus' shut up, Connor."

 

He's vaguely aware that he said that out loud when he feels his brother's eyes glare at him. He doesn't care though, and goes back to looking at Batman, the feeling of nostalgia washing over him. They were happy that day, when they unwrapped their matching action figures from the newspaper their Ma had used.  _ He _ was happy…That was something. He can't grasp the idea that at one time, he was happy. That night he was trying so hard to forget wasn't so long ago, but it felt like an eternity. He feels years older now, as if he isn't sixteen, but more like fifty.

 

"What's yer problem, Murph? I was only kiddin'." Connor looks at his brother with worry. He sees dark circles forming under his brother's eyes and notices that they have lost their youthful spark. Murphy is the more daring of the two, always up for an adventure, and even when they were just relaxing that spark would be there. Now, though…

 

He wonders when Murphy stated to look like this…It had to have been recently, but he can't remember anything that would have caused his brother to look like he does. Last week, he had been plain ole' Murphy who had wild eyes and a mischievous grin. He would at least tell Connor if something was bothering him…

 

Or so he thinks.

 

"Murph, yeh know that yeh can tell me anythin', right?" Connor means what he says and he hopes that his brother knows that. There was never a time in their life that they didn't keep secrets from each other. When Connor had kissed Julia from his Spanish class, he told Murph. Hell, he even told him when he got in her pants. Murphy told him when he got to third base with Maria last year at a school football game. That's just what they  _ do _ . They never keep each other out of their lives.

 

Murphy seems to have forgotten that, though, and that worries Connor, "I'm serious, Murphy. Anythin', yeh can tell me anythin'. I won't hate yeh. Promise."

 

His brother nods, "It's nothin', Con. I'm just tired."

 

Connor doesn't fully buy his brother's words and lightly touches his shoulder, and frowns when he feels Murphy tense underneath him, "Murph?"

 

Murphy maneuvers from his brother's touch, "Don' touch me…Please."

 

Connor is sure that his brother's voice sounds strained and broken, but he doesn't call him on it. He tells himself that it's because Murphy really is tired and just wants to be left alone. Maybe he was picked on today--not that it was likely since everyone loves Murphy, but maybe someone doesn't. An older kid, maybe.

 

"Okay, I'll jus' go back to my room. See yeh at dinner." He turns as heads towards the door, and walks slowly, hoping that Murphy will stop him and tell him what is going on, but he doesn't. He sits hunched over in his chair, his left leg drawn up close to his body and looks at the Batman figure. Connor lingers for only a moment at his brother's door thinking that maybe something more than just being picked on his bothering his brother. However, he shrugs it off and goes to his own bedroom to work on the last bit of his math homework.

 

As he works, though, he thinks of anything that may have caused his brother to act like he was. He has been withdrawing himself for a few days now, not talking much at the lunch table. Connor had barely noticed it and blamed it on stress when he did. But the looks though, they were harder to place a blame on. Murphy has taken to looking over his shoulder every chance he got, as if something was going to get him. Connor can't quite understand why Murphy would do that unless someone really  _ is _ picking on his younger brother. And if that what is really going on, then may God be with him because Connor doesn't mess around when it comes to his brother's wellbeing.

 

/|\

 

Murphy sits at the dinner table picking at the green beans on his plate. He's not hungry and really just wants to go to his room and lay down. Connor is watching him while he chats with their Ma. She's watching him, too, and Murphy doesn't like it. He knows that a confrontation is about to come, so he thinks of things to say if she asks him why he isn't eating. He'll tell her that he's not hungry, because he really isn't. Food hasn't interested him since he was ra—He stops himself mid-thought. He can't bring himself to say it.

 

"Yeh gon' eat there, Murph?"

 

"I'm not hungry, Ma," he says on cue, his words starting just as her’s finished. 

 

"Yeh haven't been hungry for tha last two days, son! Yer gon' need to eat sometime, yeh know."

 

He sees Connor look up worriedly at him when their Ma says that he hasn't eaten in the past two days. Did he not notice?

 

"I know, Ma. But I'm really not hungry. I'm jus' gonna go to bed." He stands and grabs his still-full plate and sets it on the counter as he exits the kitchen. He hears his Ma sigh sadly as he leaves and he feels a pang of guilt. He doesn't mean to hurt her or Connor, but he really can't help it. They wouldn't understand what he was going through.

He walks through his room and over to his bed, sitting gently on it. It's a comfortable bed and Murphy suddenly feels very tired, so he slides into his blankets, not bothering to change into his pyjamas. He doesn't want to fall asleep, scared by what his dreams may conjure up, but his body defies his mind and he's soon greeted by darkness.

 

/|\

 

Lips blindly press against his bare skin and he's suddenly aware of how  _ cold _ he is; his attacker has shed him of his black turtleneck shirt and peacoat when he pulled him into the dark alley. He's trying to push whoever is on top of him off, frantically whispering at him to stop, but he's weak and scared. He feels fingers pushing into the skin on his sides and he knows that he's going to bruise, judging by the force this person is using.

 

"You're so…ugh." He feels something hard press his thigh, and he instantly knows what's going to happen.

 

He panics and tries to scream for help, but he's muffled by strong, chapped lips and a hungry tongue. He doesn't like the feeling of this tongue in his mouth; it feels wrong but he finds his body pressing into it. His attacker grinds into his hip lustfully, moaning into Murphy's ear, "Wanted this for so long."

 

"Please…No." The strong hands that pressed into his sides move toward Murphy's belt, and he tries, oh  _ god _ he tries to get away, but the man on top of him is holding him to the ground with his weight. Cold air suddenly meets his skin as he feels his pants and briefs being pulled to his knees.

 

He's shaking now, from fear or the cold, he's not sure. The lips are back and pressing into his skin, only lower this time. Murphy feels a tingling sensation growing in the pit of his stomach, "No…"

 

"It's okay, it's okay."

 

Murphy squeezes his eyes shut. It's not okay, he's scared and cold and—Oh god! He screams out loud as he feels something hard thrust in and out of his body.

 

"Murphy…"

 

He's crying as his attacker forcefully kisses him again, his thrusts growing harder, faster. God, it hurts. He wants to fight, to try to get away but he finds that he's lost control of his arms, as they are laying limply to his sides. He prays silently, asking God to help him, to make this just go away. It doesn't though, and he feels a hand wrap around his…

 

"Please, stop," he says weakly, the panic building again.

 

With each thrust that his attacker makes, the hand around him pulls. Murphy's brain is screaming for him to stop, not at all liking the contact, but his body says otherwise.

 

His back is on fire as it's rubbed against the hard ground, "Oh  _ god _ , Murphy."

 

He doesn't like the feeling of the substance left in him as his attacker pulls out of his body or the stickiness left on his stomach. Waves of pain spiral through his body as the man above him crashes his lips down on his once more. Murphy feels the pressure on him lift as he watches his attacker stand and adjust his clothes.

 

"Murphy,” he watches the man move around him, eyes looking all over his naked form. Admiration is laced through his almost velvety voice, and Murphy can vaguely hear the smirk on his lips. But he’s heard this voice somewhere, he’s sure of it, but his mind is too tired to process it…

 

“Murphy,” his attacker says again, leaning down to inspect him. He doesn't like the way that his attacker says his name. He says it with so much lust that it makes Murphy sick, "Murphy."

 

With as much strength as he could muster up, Murphy shoots his body forward, "NO!"

 

The alley and his attacker are gone and his eyes are greeted to the darkness of his room and Connor sitting in front of him. He looks worried and Murphy knows that he must've talked in his sleep.

 

"You okay, Murph? Yeh were moanin' in yer sleep, and yer all sweaty. Didja have a nightmare?"

 

He doesn't say anything and as much as he hates the contact, he wraps his arms around his brother's broad shoulders. He doesn't realize that he's crying until he hears Connor whispering, "Shh, Murph. It's okay, it's all over now," as he pulls Murphy close. He's rubbing his back, rubbing against the bruises and scrapes from that night and Murphy wonders if he can feel the outline of the scabs.

 

Murphy wants to tell him so badly that it's not okay, it's not over. He wants so badly for Connor to know what happened, but he can't tell him that he was, "Raped."

  
He feels Connor take a hard hold on his shoulders and jerk him back, "What did yeh say, Murph?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised 8/06/16


	2. Chapter 2

Murphy looks down and closes his eyes, ashamed that he had let that slip. He's not ready to admit that to himself, let alone his brother, "In my dream…Ma was raped." Murphy looks up at his brother, who he feels relax a little, "Tha's all? Murph, yeh know no man in their righ' mind would go after Ma! Well, cept' Da o'course, but yeh saw how long he stuck around."

Murphy tries to smile, but his eyes fill with tears again. He stifles a small, weak laugh-sob, "Murph, it's okay. It was just a dream." Murphy wishes that were true, that what happened that night really was a dream. He would give his right arm to erase that night from his memory.

Murphy leans into his brother, wrapping his arms around Connor's frame and places places an ear over his heart. He listens to the steady rhythm, the calm  _badum-badum_  and closes his eyes. He's suddenly tired again, but he's too scared to go back to sleep, "Can yeh stay here with me, Conn? 'M too scared ta go back ta sleep."

"Sure, Murph," he feels Connor pull him down to meet his pillow. As soon as Murphy feels the soft plush dip against his weight, his eyes droop; he's so  _tired_ but he's so afraid of what will greet him when he closes his eyes. Connor wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, "C'mon, go ta sleep. 'M here if ya get scared."

Connor lays his head on top of his brother's and wonders if Murphy was lying to him. Something must have really scared him in his dream for him to be acting like this, but what? He notes to ask Murphy in the morning, and closes his eyes, drifting to sleep.

Murphy can feel Connor go to sleep, as his brother relaxes his arms around him. He doesn't go to sleep though. He lies with his arms wrapped around Connor, face buried in the crook of his neck. He forces his mind to think of everything except  _that night_. He thinks about the math homework that he never did, and frankly, he doesn't care. What is one incomplete assignment going to hurt? Nothing, that's what.

He lets his mind drift some more, thinking of how winter was almost on top of the land. He knows that it will be snowing soon and Connor would want to go sledding the first chance he got.  _Before_ , he would be gung-ho for a good slide down the hill behind the church. There wasn't anything more thrilling than sliding down a steep hill, the cold wind biting at his face as he raced towards the bottom…But now,  _now_  he can't think of anything thrilling. His mind was just… _numb_.

He lays in Connor's arms, letting his mind wonder until he can see the sun peek over the hills that surround their small home, and shine through his window, making small bursts of light on his walls. Where had the time gone, he wonders…

He knows that it's time to get up when he can hear their Ma moving around downstairs, clanking pots and pans together in a hurried frenzy to cook breakfast. He can feel Connor start to stir next to him, his head rubbing against the pillow in protest to his waking body. His breathing becomes uneven and frustrated until Murphy can feel Connor unwrapping himself from his brother.

"Mornin…" He mumbles, sleep still thick in his voice. Murphy doesn't reply; he just sits up and throws his legs over the bed and stands, "Anymore nigh'mares?"

"Nah. Slept like a baby." Murphy walks over to his closet and pulls out the black uniform pants and white shirt for school. He suddenly feels uncomfortable with Connor in the room as he begins to get ready for school. No one but Murphy had seen the bruises and scrapes, and he didn't feel like changing that now.

He turns to Connor and clears his throat in an attempt to get his brother out of his room. Connor looks at him with confusion, not getting it. Murphy nods his head in the direction of the door and raises his eyebrows. Get out, he thinks.

Connor cracks a smile, "Wha'? Yeh don' want to yer older brother to see yeh naked? Yeh got somethin' yeh wanna hide? A  _hickey_ , perhaps?"

"No." Murphy says it all too quickly and Connor smiles, "I jus' don' want yeh in here."

"Who gave it to yeh-Bridgette Miller? I saw yeh eyein' her up in the library the other day. Good choice, brother! Her rack is somethin' else!" Connor continues to talk about his nonexistent encounter with Bridgette, but all Murphy could think about were the lustful lips that pressed against his cold skin. He wants to tell Connor that he's wrong, but…

Before he can react, Connor is next to him, reaching for the collar of his shirt, exposing a fading bruise on his collarbone, "Nice, Murph! How far did yeh get with her?"

He pushes past Connor, hitting his left shoulder as he does, and walks toward his bed and throwing his clothes onto the rumpled blanket. He turns to Connor, "Jus' get out, Con. I need to get ready fer school."

Connor wrinkles his brow, "I was only kiddin, Murphy. Can't yeh take a joke?" He walks out of Murphy's room with a huff.

/\

Connor watches Murphy pick at his lunch, moving the food around with his fork. When he does take a bite, it's so small that even an ant would be unsatisfied with it. He's silent, too. Normally, Murphy would be cracking a joke at him, but he just sits there, hunched up and tired looking. Connor wants to ask Murphy if he's okay, but right as he goes to ask, the bell shrieks above him, signaling the end of lunch.

Murphy stands quickly and collects his tray, making a beeline to the trashcans across the large cafeteria. Connor tries desperately to catch up to him, but he loses his brother in the swarm of students making their way to their classes.

Murphy goes into a bathroom. Which one, he's not for sure. He presses his back up against the door as soon as he hears it latch closed, closes his eyes, and sighs. He wants so badly to go home and get away from his brother, his classmates,  _everyone_.

Murphy is too busy trying to clear his head that he doesn't notice Patrick Null, the school's star soccer player, walk out of a stall. He doesn't hear his footsteps getting closer, and he  _certainly_  doesn't feel his breath creep closer to his ear.

"Hey Murph. How're you're bruises?"

That voice…Murphy knows it. It's just as thick with lust as it was four nights ago. He snaps his eyes open and looks into Patrick's dark brown ones.

He's looking into the eyes of the man who raped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back when I wrote this, I was terrible at chapter length. I'm sorry that it is short. One day, I plan on going back and revising this whole thing to make it better!


	3. Chapter 3

He feels wet lips push against his neck and he's too scared to do anything about it. He doesn't want this, but he closes his eyes; Patrick is much stronger than him, just as he was that night, and for Murphy to try and fight him off would be stupid. So, he let Patrick use his body again, no matter how much it hurt.

There are hands now, snaking their way around Murphy's waist. The hands are grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, desperately trying to hold onto their prey. The lips are moving downward to his collarbone, biting and sucking skin. This is when Murphy notices how tender Patrick is being. He's not squeezing and gripping like the first time.

But he doesn't move. He stays in his place, trapped under Patrick and his lips. He stares blankly at the mirrors in front of his eyes, watching the event unfold. It's strange watching himself give in like he is. He's not showing any signs of protest like he wants to be. It's almost as if…

As if he  _likes_  it.

He closes his eyes and tries to erase the image from the mirror away. He doesn't want to like this; it's wrong and he knows that he's going to Hell for it, but he can't help it. The lips are so tender and caring, which is something that he's never experienced fully. The hands are nice, too. They're under his shirt now, ghosting his sides lightly.

Murphy wraps his arms around Patrick's neck, trying to get closer to him. He hates himself for it, but he wants more. However, as soon as his arms are draped around the larger man's neck, the lips are gone. Patrick shoves him against the wall, "What do you think you're doing?!"

Murphy is confused and fear is back in his eyes, "I…"

Patrick snarls and connects a hard fist to Murphy's nose. The force knocks Murphy to his knees, but Patrick quickly pulls him up to his eye level, " _Faggot_." And with that, Patrick leaves the bathroom.

Murphy presses his back against the wall and slides down to the cold, tiled floor; he's so confused and hurt. He draws his knees close to his body as he realizes what he just did. He's not gay, he's  _not_ , but he had never felt someone touch him like that. It was nice and welcoming…He knows that he has to go to Confessional to testify against his sin.

He's vaguely aware of the blood that is running down his face, as he stares at the ground. He thinks that his nose is broken and that he needs to go to the infirmary to get it looked at, but he can't find the willpower to get up.

/\

Connor hunts for his younger brother long after the tardy bell signals. He wanders the hallways looking in the library, the janitor's closet, empty classrooms, but he can't find him anywhere. He's walking down another hallway when he sees Patrick Null walk out of a bathroom with a snarl on his face. He meets Connor's eyes and glares, which confuses Connor since he's sure that he's spoken maybe two words to the man.

Now curious, Connor decides to enter the bathroom; whatever's in there has Patrick pretty angry. He pushes the wooden door open and is greeting by a normal bathroom. He doesn't see anyone else in there until his eyes meet a huddled figure in the mirror.

He looks behind the door where the reflection would be coming from and there is, indeed, a huddled person, "Hey, yeh okay?"

He walks over to the person and kneels down in front of them.

The person looks up at him, blood smeared across his face. "Connor?"

"Jesus, Murph! What happened to yeh?!" He pulls his younger brother into a tight embrace.

"Got in a fight, is all. Patrick…He broke my nose, I think."

"I'll say. Jesus, yer bleedin' somethin' awful! Let's get yeh to the nurse."

Connor helps his brother stand up and he leads him out of the bathroom with an arm thrown over his shoulder.

And as they walk down the empty hallway, Connor steals a glance at Murphy and he can't help but notice the sad, broken look in his eyes. Something happened to him, he thinks, something much worse than a fight.

/\

That night at dinner, no one speaks a word to each other. Connor looks at his brother while he eats his beef stew that their ma had made. Murphy doesn't touch his food, he just sits and looks down into the murky broth with the same sad, broken look as he had at school. Their ma looks at Murphy, too, with a look of worry. She doesn't say anything, though.

When they got home after school, Connor told their ma about Murphy's fight and how Patrick broke his nose. She was furious and threatened to call Patrick's parents, but Murphy, in a panicked voice, told her no. She looked at him when he told her that and she, too, saw the sad, broken look in his eyes. It bothered her and something in her mind told her to pry and ask him what was wrong, but she didn't. She just went back to cooking dinner and told her sons to go do their homework.

She looks away from Murphy, "Yeh should eat yer stew, Murph. Yeh haven' been eatin' well fer a few days now."

"I don' feel well, Ma."

Part of her doesn't want to believe him and she wants to ask what was really wrong, but she dismisses him from dinner. She watches him stand up slowly and walk to the stairs, and she waits until she hears his bedroom door shut before she talks to Connor, "Alright, do yeh know what's goin' on with him? He's been like this fer days now."

"No, Ma. He won't talk to me."

"Okay…I'll talk to him tonight. Finish yer dinner, Con."

"Yes, Ma."

That night, she doesn't talk to Murphy. She does, however, sneak into his room when she knows that he is sleeping. She opens the door quietly and watches her youngest son toss and turn, as if he's trying to get away from the demons in his dreams. She wonders what or who those demons are and if they're the reason he's acting the way he is and, if they are, what they have done to him.

She's suddenly pulled from her thoughts when she hears a quiet, broken voice sound from her son, "Please…no."

That's all that she can handle, because she feels tears in her eyes. It's strange for her to cry, but hearing her son sound so helpless against his dreams just breaks her heart. She moves from her perch in the doorframe and walks over to Murphy. She kneels down next to his bed and puts her hand on his back, trying to comfort him. He flinches, which frightens her, but he quickly relaxes into her touch.

She looks at his bruised face and notices how much older he looks than he did a few days ago. She thinks that it's just her imagination, though, but she still cries for him. She doesn't know what is going on with Murphy and it scares her.

"Ma…?"

She looks into her son's tired eyes, "Yeah, Murph; 's me. Go on back teh sleep. I'll be right here."

Murphy smiles tiredly at her and closes his eyes. When she feels his breathing even out, she removes her hand from his back and laces it in her other hand and bows her head. She prays to God to protect her son from whatever is hurting him and to give him the strength to overcome. When she finishes her prayer, she takes one last look at her son and goes to her room to go to bed.

She tells herself to ask Murphy what is really going on in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Connor had gone to school alone the next day. Ma told him that she was going to keep Murphy home because he struck a fever during the night. He didn't believe her, though. As great of a Ma that she was, she had never been good at lying. But he was thankful for her keeping Murph home, because he really did need a personal day. His brother hasn't been himself, and maybe,  _hopefully_ , he would start to feel better after today.

As he walks into his maths class, Connor remembers the encounter with Patrick Null from yesterday. Luckily, the older boy hadn't broken Connor's nose, but the whole thing left a sour taste in Connor's mouth. Murphy was nice to everyone, and was well liked, so why had Patrick gone after him?

"Hey, watch it!"

Connor was too busy thinking about the soccer star to notice that he almost walked into Bridgette Miller, "Aw, 'm so sorry!"

"Jeez, Con, what's gotten into yeh?"

"Thinkin…Sorry," he pushes past her to get to his seat. He can hear her scoff, and he's sure that she is rolling her eyes at him. She may have the best rack in his class, but she can be a-

"Okay class, put yer books an' notes away. We're gonna start the day off with a quiz!"

 _Great…_ Connor thinks,  _just what I need today._

/\

Ma sits and watches her youngest boy sleep. She hadn't left his side all night, and she doesn't intend to until he wakes up. She watches him out of the corner of her eye while she reads the Bible silently. Murphy's nose had turned almost black from the bruising, and it made him look pale. Or has he been that pale…?

As she watches him, Murphy begins to stir. He squeezes his eyes in protest to the sun and groans as he leaves his dreamless state. Opening his eyes, he begins to panic.  _What time is it?!_  He shoots up, quickly trying to get out of bed to get dressed when he feels hands on his shoulders, pulling him back to the bed.

"Murph, it's okay. I called the school an' told 'em yeh were sick. Now calm down," Ma's voice sounded frantic and tired. Murphy looked at her and noticed the bags under her eyes. Had she been there all night? He vaguely remembered her telling him to go back to sleep last night. Or had it been a part of his dream?

"Muph, what's wrong?"

Ma was looking at him worriedly again, "Nothin' Ma. 'm just a bit dazed. Why did yeh keep me home? 'm not sick, promise."

He puts on a fake smile in hopes to prove his point, "See?"

Ma sighs deeply, starting to dread the words that she knows are about to escape her lips, "Murph, yer not fine. Yeh haven't been eatin', an' I know yeh ain't been sleepin' neither. Please, son, tell yer Ma what's wrong."

Murphy is surprised at how desperate her voice sounds. She has never sounded so weak and he feels guilty again. He doesn't mean for her to worry about him, but he can't get all of the thoughts of confusion and worry out of his head. He bows his head, torn between telling her everything that's happened and lying. He desperately wants to tell someone,  _anyone_ , what has happened to him, but he just can't bring himself to say it. Not to his Ma. He knows that if he told her what he did, she would hate him forever.

"Murph… _please._ "

He feels tears starting to well up in his eyes. He has to tell her. He has to tell her that he was…That Patrick had…

He sighs, "Ma…I think that I jus' need teh go teh church. Do yeh think you could take me? Please?"

/\

Murphy walks into the church alone. He had asked Ma to wait in the car, and he could tell that she wanted to say no, but she nodded silently and let him go alone. The car ride over to the church had been quiet, and Murphy had taken to watching the hills roll past his window to pass the time. They sky was gray and the air felt damp. He was sure that it was going to rain today.

The church was empty, save for the priest talking to two nuns. Murphy tries to muster up the courage to walk up to Father MacLise, but he can't. He decides to go into an empty confessional booth and sit. He's been in these booths many times, most at the expense of his Ma, who would make him and Connor Confess every time they got into trouble at school. He smiles softly at the memories of her dragging them up to the booths after Sunday service. He had always hated confessing, but today…Today he wanted nothing more than to talk to someone who couldn't judge him.

He sighs, knowing that no one is on the other side of the screen, but he doesn't care. He wants, no,  _needs_  to talk about it, "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I…I had explicit thoughts about another man…This man, though…He-he," Murphy breaths in slowly, "He raped me."

A tear falls from his eyes. He didn't even notice that he was about to cry, but he didn't care, "He raped me an' for some reason, I had thoughts about 'im. I know that 'm not gay, but God, why did I feel that? He was so…gentle when he touched me in the bathroom…I liked it, God. He made me feel things that I've never felt before…"

Tears fell gently from his eyes and his breathing was beginning to get harsh, "I don't want teh feel these things, God. I don' want teh make me Ma an' brother worry. It'd be easier if none uh this had ever happened…" Murphy buries his head into his hands, grabbing fistfuls of hair, " _Why_? Why did you do this?"

He cries silently, hoping to hear someone answer him.

But no one does.

/\

"Murph, yer lucky that yeh missed today. We had a quiz in maths, and it was hard! I'm sure I failed it."

Connor came home excited to see his brother, but when he opened the door to Murphy's room, his excitement had faltered. Murphy was sitting on his bed staring off into space with a look in his eyes that Connor couldn't quite place. His brother looked sad, angry, and scared all at once. It worried him, but Connor pushed the feelings aside as nothing and began telling his brother about his day until Ma calls them down for dinner.

After dinner that night, Connor walks into his brother's room. He finds him in the same state as Murphy was earlier. He clears his throat, "So, Murph, do yeh want to go to the bridge tonight?"

The bridge was a local hangout where a lot of the kids in his class go to drink stolen alcohol and play cards. He and Connor used to go every Friday night, but that was  _before._ The bridge was where he was walking home from when _it_ happened. Murphy had decided to head home early, and Connor insisted on staying to play another hand of poker. Murphy looks up at his brother and shakes his head, "Nah, I think I'll stay home tonight. 'm still not feelin' well."

Connor bites his lip in concern, but decides not to say anything in protest, "Well, I'm goin'. Ma said somethin' about goin' to the pub tonight, so yeh have the place to yerself. Rest up, brother."

Murphy watches his brother leave and waits until the front door latches before getting up and walking over to his desk. He looks down at his notebook that had words of apology written across the lines and takes in a labored breath, his hands reaching for the pocket knife that Connor had gotten him for Christmas that year.

" _I'm sorry._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first chapter posted after a two year hiatus, and I was really rusty when I wrote it. I feel really embarrassed with the quality of this chapter, but like I said in chapter two, I plan to go back through and revise this story.   
> If anyone would like to beta this, I would be forever grateful!  
> I will update when I can. I work two jobs, so time is not something that I have a lot of right now.   
> Thanks for reading!


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